


Fever, Lay Your Hands on Me

by blue_jack



Series: Fever [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Tony Stark, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bottom Steve Rogers, Creepy Tony Stark, Dark Tony Stark, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Humiliation kink, M/M, Manipulation, Medical Examination, Medical Kink, Naive Steve Rogers, Nipple Play, Object Insertion, Omega Steve Rogers, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Paging Dr. Stark, Power Imbalance, Rape/Non-con - Freeform, Rape/Non-con Elements, Situational Humiliation, Top Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_jack/pseuds/blue_jack
Summary: When he’d called that morning, he hadn’t expected them to be able to fit him in on such short notice.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: Fever [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1100082
Comments: 394
Kudos: 1081





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ETA 3: OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGG. The absolutely wonderful [Tina](https://thirstinart.tumblr.com/) made AMAZING art for Fever [here](https://thirstinart.tumblr.com/post/640752832509886464/) for my birthday. My heart freaking exploded. I can't. Please go give it love. Fuck.
> 
> ETA2: I don't even know what the heck is wrong with me, but I forgot to thank slythieamour on the MCU discord ([lmao_thunder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lmao_thunder/pseuds/lmao_thunder) on AO3) for the cheer leading and for encouraging me to keep writing this. Thank you so much! <333
> 
> ETA: OMG, the last time I updated this series was exactly a year ago. What are the chances? O_O
> 
> Okay, guys, so this is NOT the same as the other two fics in the series. This is kind of an AU of Fever, Breathe Your Love on Me, or you can consider it roleplay following the events of You Give me Fever, but Tony does NOT act like a nice guy in this fic. Please mind the tags.
> 
> Title from “Doctor! Doctor!” performed by the Thompson Twins.

Steve jabs at the elevator button again, even though he knows that won’t make it come down any faster. He needs some way to release his anxious energy, though, and this is the only outlet available.

He can’t believe he’s late.

When he’d called that morning, he hadn’t expected them to be able to fit him in on such short notice. After telling the nurse his symptoms, however—tenderness in his lower abdomen for the past few days, leaking slick all day, hot flashes—she’d put him on hold and then come back to say that if he were willing to see someone other than his normal doctor, he could be seen at 6pm, even though that was when the office technically closed. 

It’s 6:27pm, however, and he has no idea if anyone’s going to be there when he finally arrives, dripping wet no less because there’s a thunderstorm going on outside. He’d gotten soaked in the few seconds it’d taken him to run from his car to the building, because like an idiot, he hadn’t checked the weather before he’d gone to work and had left his umbrella at home.

The office lights are still on, however, when he gets out of the elevator, and thank heavens, the door opens under his hand.

“Hello?” he calls out, barely a foot inside in case he is actually too late and they’re in the middle of shutting everything down.

But a couple of seconds later, he hears, “Steve Rogers?” 

“Yes! I’m so sorry I’m late!” Steve says right before someone pops out around the corner and—

Oh.

Oh no.

“It’s alright,” Dr. Stark says, because of course it’s Dr. Stark. Of course it’s the doctor who recently joined the practice and who Steve had seen in passing and who he might’ve looked up on the website, because he’s never been so viscerally attracted to someone before in his entire life. “I heard about the accident on the freeway and assumed you’d probably gotten stuck in it. I’m Tony Stark by the way. I’ll be standing in for Dr. Edwards.” He walks forward, extending his hand.

“Yeah,” Steve breathes in a stunning display of intelligence, and fuck. The first impression he’s making by being late is already bad enough; he doesn’t need to make it worse. 

They meet near the middle of the room, and Steve shakes his hand, letting go quickly and refusing to think about how warm and firm Dr. Stark’s grip had been. 

“Sorry, I would’ve called,” he says and has to swallow—he’s _salivating_ , like Dr. Stark is a steak he desperately wants to sink his teeth into, what the hell—”but my battery died,” because his soon-to-be-ex-best-friend had been playing games on it, “and I didn’t realize until it was too late.”

“You’re fine,” Dr. Stark says, and maybe it’s his imagination, but it feels like he looks Steve up and down in a way that’s not purely professional. It’s probably just wishful thinking, though, so Steve doesn’t let it fluster him. “Or at least, that’s the goal. Now why don’t you tell me what’s going on. The nurse mentioned hot flashes and excessive slick production, is that right?”

There’s no one else in the room, no one else in the entire office in all likelihood, and even if there were, it’s not like Dr. Stark is shouting or even using a loud voice. But it’s still shocking to hear him discuss Steve’s condition in a public space. 

That’s stupid, though, considering they’re alone, so Steve forces himself to ignore his embarrassment and says, “Yes. I’ve always been like clockwork with my heats,” he says, and he’s not going to be sad about the fact that he’s talking about his heats with Dr. Stark in a purely unsexual way, he’s not, “so this is really out of the ordinary for me.”

“Hmm, well, there are actually a lot of things that can mess with a heat cycle, stress, not getting enough sleep, meeting someone highly compatible—” Dr. Stark laughs at the look Steve makes. “I know, I know, it sounds odd, but biology can be very powerful, and occasionally, the body wants something without any input from the brain. Sometimes, however, and it’s unlikely in your case, especially considering how young you are, but sometimes these symptoms can be an indication of something serious, so that’s why you’re here. Okay, why don’t we head into the back and get started? No need to keep either of us here any later than necessary.”

“I really am so sorry about being late,” Steve says again as he follows Dr. Stark, because they’d probably be finished by now if Steve had been on time. He wipes at a few drops of water running down his forehead and tries not to think about what Dr. Stark had said about how meeting someone highly compatible could affect his heats. Yes, Steve had been in for his semi-annual exam a few weeks ago, and yes, he’d brushed against Dr. Stark once as they’d been going in opposite directions down the hallway, and _yes_ , Steve has had a few … hazy … ish … thoughts about him since, but that couldn’t be enough to trigger anything. 

Could it?

“Alright, so why don’t you take off your pants and underwear and lie down on the bed. There’s a sheet you can place across your lap, if you’d like. I’ll just step outsi—oh damn,” Dr. Stark says, and Steve blinks, because he might have been getting distracted. “I’m sorry. There was a blackout for a second right before you got here, and I was going to check on the machine,” he says, gesturing to the black screen of the computer, “but I forgot. I have to boot this up and put your information in. I know it’s a little unorthodox, but would you mind if I stayed in the room while you got undressed? It’ll save the both of us a lot of time.”

“Um.” Steve looks at the computer, positioned near the end of the bed. Technically, there’s no reason to say no. Dr. Stark’s going to see everything eventually anyway, and it isn’t like Steve’s body-shy. He gets undressed at the gym all the time with no problem, and Dr. Stark wouldn’t actually be _watching_.

He barely controls the shiver that tries to break free at the idea of Dr. Stark watching.

Besides, he’s already kept him later than he’d intended, and doesn’t he owe it to him to do whatever he can to hasten things along now? “Yeah, that’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Great, thanks.” Dr. Stark gives him a smile that’s worth whatever embarrassment Steve has suffered up until this point and sends a pulse of arousal through his body, which, okay, damn it, that’s no good, and Steve’s just going to stare down at the buttons of his shirt—

His white shirt, which is absolutely plastered to his skin from the rain and aggressively showing his nipples.

Like all omegas, he has bigger nipples than betas or alphas, and he’d been wrong: Dr. Stark’s smile did _not_ make up for the embarrassment of introducing himself chest first. 

“So uh, hey, I’m not sure if you’d be interested, but I could actually lend you a pair of scrubs, if you felt like changing into dry clothes. We’ve got a few sets lying around for emergencies, and you could just bring them back whenever you got the chance … .”

“Thanks, but I’m okay,” Steve says in a blatant lie and throws a weak smile in Dr. Stark’s direction without meeting his eyes, because he might explode in mortification if he does.

“If you’re sure … ?”

“Yes, thank you, I’m fine,” he says but starts regretting it a few seconds later, because he doesn’t know how he hasn’t noticed the air conditioning is on, but he has no doubt that he’s painting pink, pointy bullseyes on his chest right now. 

It’s embarrassing, so, so embarrassing, but unfortunately, there are worse things for him to focus on than his nipples. One would think that with all the humiliation and with being cold and wet, the last thing Steve would be thinking of would be sex. And yet.

If Steve had known Dr. Stark was the only doctor who could see him today, he might not have come, because he’s gotten a few inappropriate erections during his appointments with Dr. Edwards, but he’s never had one before they even got started.

It’s just. Dr. Stark is unfairly attractive with his smile and his impeccably-trimmed goatee and his gorgeous brown eyes and strong, callused hands, and more than anything, Steve kind of wants to bury his face in his neck as Dr. Stark buries his cock in Steve’s—

Fuck.

Okay. That isn’t helping. 

He angles away from Dr. Stark as he undoes his jeans, heart thudding and hyper-aware that means he’s going to be mooning Dr. Stark as he undresses, but there are no good options right now. It doesn’t help that his jeans are clinging to his legs, which means it’s harder to take them off and that he’s hunched over longer than he’d expected as he shoves his clothes down, but it’s not like Dr. Stark is looking at him anyway.

Right?

It’s very quiet behind him. 

Although Steve’s sure that if he were to turn his head, he’d see Dr. Stark staring at the screen or one of the posters on the wall, giving Steve whatever small scrap of privacy he can.

But.

What if he’s not?

What if he’s watching Steve fumble around and staring at the back of Steve’s naked thighs and imagining some other reason Steve might have for bending over in front of him?

Steve’s apparently much colder than he’d realized, because the line of slick that drips down his leg is burning hot.

For one horrified second, he’s tempted to jump on the table right then and there and slam his ass down on the paper and cover every part of himself he can reach with the sheet Dr. Stark had given him.

There are a few reasons why he doesn’t. One, with his luck, he’d trip over his clothes and land face-first on the ground. Two, it’s extremely unlikely that Dr. Stark can actually see Steve’s problem, no matter how obvious it feels to Steve. Three, Dr. Stark is going to find out quite soon that Steve gets somewhat affected by his exams. And four … well, there’s a small, shameful part of Steve that thinks Dr. Stark knowing just how wet he makes Steve isn’t necessarily a bad thing.

He does cover his lap with the sheet once he’s sitting down though. It’s just … manners not to wave his erection around.

When he glances up, Dr. Stark is looking right at him.

Steve can’t control his sudden intake of breath.

“All set then?” Dr. Stark smiles and stands up, going to wash his hands at the sink.

He … had to have heard Steve get on the table and the rustle of the sheet. After all, it’s not like he’s outside the room and waiting some predetermined time before knocking to check if Steve’s ready. Of course he’d turn his head at all the noise.

“So I know you just had your semi-annual exam a few weeks ago, but I’m going to go ahead and make sure nothing’s changed, alright?”

“Yes, Dr. Stark,” he says, and he can’t seem to look away from eyes that seem much darker than they had in the waiting room as Dr. Stark gets closer and closer. 

He shivers as Dr. Stark’s hands slide down his neck, presumably to check there’s no swelling in his glands, but it doesn’t feel clinical; it feels like he’s caressing him.

“I’m sorry, you have to be freezing!” Dr. Stark says, pulling away. “Look, I know you said you don’t want any scrubs, but you might consider taking off your shirt. You’re never going to warm up if you’re all wet like that.” He scrunches his nose apologetically. “I can’t even offer to raise the heat. The office temperature is preprogrammed as a result of the infamous summer of 2018 apparently, and all the thermostats are locked.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s my fault for forgetting my umbrella.” Dr. Stark makes a good point. He’s not going to be here long enough for his shirt to dry, and he _is_ really cold. Dr. Stark is going to see a hell of a lot more than his bare chest, so there’s no reason to suffer if he doesn’t have to. 

Steve slowly reaches for the buttons of his shirt, waiting for Dr. Stark to back up, and he does; but only by a step. 

There’s a fine tremble in Steve’s hands as he unbuttons, but it’s silly. There’s no reason for him to be nervous. He’s been shirtless in public before. This is no different.

It might be a _little_ different, he decides when he’s bare in front of Dr. Stark, the only things preserving his modesty a thin sheet and a pair of socks. He doesn’t normally have an erection when he’s in public, for instance. 

He honestly doesn’t know how he still has one. If anything, it’s even harder than it was a few minutes ago, which makes no sense. 

“Here, let me take that for you,” Dr. Stark says kindly, and Steve hands his shirt over to go with his other clothes in one of the two chairs in the room, nodding his thanks because his voice seems to have left him. “Actually, I’ve got a hanger in my office. I’ll be right back.”

Steve means to say something, but he still can’t seem to get a word out, and by the time he swallows and tries again, Dr. Stark is already stepping into the hallway. 

He leaves the door open.

Steve hunches down slightly and has to resist the urge to pull the sheet up higher. There’s literally no one else in the office. 

He thinks.

No, no, Dr. Stark would definitely have closed the door if there were someone else around. Doctors are all about patient privacy.

But what about the janitorial staff? Have they already come by? Or are they going to walk in at any moment?

He’s relieved beyond measure when Dr. Stark comes back less than a minute later. He’s adjusting Steve’s shirt on the hanger, but he uses his elbow to nudge the door closed, and Steve feels like he can breathe again.

Dr. Stark hangs his shirt on the coat hook on the back of the door and smiles at Steve as he goes to wash his hands again.

“Okay, now where were we?” He comes up to Steve and pulls out a little flashlight from the pocket of his lab coat. “Say ‘ah,’ please.”

Steve sits up and does as he’s told, all too conscious of how he’s staring at Dr. Stark’s face, because there’s nowhere else to look, and of how naked he is while he’s doing it. There are only a few reasons why he’d be opening his mouth in front of an alpha like Dr. Stark, and with the two of them so close to each other, he can’t help but think of the other scenarios, even as he tells himself to stop.

Luckily, that part is over with quickly, and Steve doesn’t react to anything Dr. Stark does until he puts the flashlight away and lightly places his hands back on Steve’s neck. As soon as they reach his glands, Steve hisses and instinctively jerks back.

“Did that hurt?” Dr. Stark asks, concerned.

“Not … exactly,” Steve says, because it hadn’t really. He just hadn’t expected the rush of sensation. “It just felt weird.”

“Is it alright if I touch them again?”

“Yes, of course.” He can’t help tensing as Dr. Stark reaches out, but it’s not as bad, now that he’s expecting it. It even starts to feel … kind of good. The way massaging a knot of muscle feels good, a little painful but you don’t want it to stop.

“Are they this sensitive during a heat?” Dr Stark asks, and it’s only then that Steve realizes his eyes have nearly closed.

“I don’t think so,” he says, but it’s almost a question. He knows some omegas really like being bitten on their necks during their heats, but he can take it or leave it. The way he feels right now, though, the thought of some dark-haired alpha biting him, pinning him down and holding him in place as he’s forced to take his knot—

He can’t stop the shudder.

Dr. Stark hums thoughtfully, and Steve finds himself leaning forward, as if to chase his hands as they move away.

He tries to calm himself as Dr. Stark listens to his heartbeat and lungs, but any progress he makes goes immediately out the window as soon as Dr. Stark tells him to lie down.

There’s no way in hell he’s going to be able to hide his erection now, and what’s worse, he can feel how wet he’s made the leather as he changes position.

Steve has always gotten excited during his exams, but it’s never been this bad before. He wants to blame it on whatever’s been bothering him, and maybe that’s true to a certain extent, but he knows most of it’s because of Dr. Stark. 

Dr. Stark, whose gaze flicks down to the tent in the sheet and freezes there for a second, before moving back up to Steve’s face, and it’s all Steve can do not to cover his face in shame.

“I …” His voice cracks. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dr. Stark smiles reassuringly, but his eyes dart downward before coming back up to meet Steve’s. “It’s a common reaction.”

Is it? Because all of Steve’s omega friends complain about getting their exams, about how annoying and uncomfortable they are, and not one of them has ever hinted by so much as a blush that they react the same way Steve does.

Not that Steve’s current response is normal. He’s starting to get a waft of his own scent coming up from all the slicks he’s leaking, and he has to close his eyes for a moment as his cheeks burn.

Dr. Stark clears his throat. “I was going to actually skip the chest exam, but your nipples look swollen. Do you mind?”

Did he mind? Did he mind that he’d basically flashed Dr. Stark with his nipples as soon as he’d met him and that Dr. Stark had remarked on how swollen they were and that the thought of Dr. Stark actually touching them makes Steve’s thighs clench together and humiliation run through his veins?

“No,” he says roughly, but he has to turn his head away, because he doesn’t think he can look without combusting.

It doesn’t help, though, not when as soon as Dr. Stark touches one, Steve nearly arches off the table and lets out a choked gasp. He’s always had sensitive nipples, but they’ve never been _this_ sensitive. He stares up at Dr. Stark in shock and gets a surprised look in return before Dr. Stark starts to frown.

“I’m assuming by your response that that’s not normal.”

“That’s … that’s never happened to me before,” he somehow manages to say, and he has the crazy urge to cover his chest protectively. The nipple Dr. Stark had touched is still tingling.

“Was it painful?”

It’s just like his glands all over again. “Kind of,” he says weakly, because he knows what comes next, and he grips the sides of the table with his hands.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to touch them again,” Dr. Stark says, and yup, there it is. “More than just touch them, I’m afraid.” 

What? 

“There’s a condition, a pretty serious one actually, that causes omegas to false lactate. If we catch it early enough, it’s not a problem, but if we don’t …” Dr. Stark frowns. “I think the best course of action here would be for me to massage your breasts and nipples in order to see if you secrete any liquid. Considering how sensitive you are, it might hurt a little, but I highly recommend you allow me to try.”

False lactate? Serious condition? 

“If you really think that’s necessary, then go ahead,” Steve says, his stomach rolling nervously, and he grips the table even harder.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. I wasn't actually planning to add another chapter because this didn't get very many kudos, but Eggums wrote such a nice comment that I got inspired. I hope you enjoy this small chapter, Eggums!
> 
> Many thanks again to lmao_thunder for looking this over!

Dr. Stark gives him another one of those reassuring smiles, says, “Alright, here we go,” and then covers both of Steve’s pecs with his large, warm, rough hands. 

Steve shudders from head to toe and squeezes the table so hard, he swears he hears it creak.

“Now, I don’t know how familiar you are with breastfeeding techniques,” Dr. Stark says as he stares down into Steve's wide eyes, “but I’m going to be using the Marmet method to see if I can induce any kind of letdown reflex. Some mothers find that using warm, damp towels on their breasts for a few minutes helps to open up the milk ducts, but I don’t really have anything like that readily available, so I’d typically avoid that step in the office. You’re running a little cool, however, and I don’t want to miss anything because I didn’t take the time to examine you properly, so I’m just going to use body heat. Luckily, my hands tend to run hot,” he says, and they do. They feel almost blistering on Steve’s chest, and his cock flexes wildly at the thought, so much so that he swears he can see the sheet move from the corner of his eye.

Dr. Stark must too, because he looks down again, and Steve doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, but he lets out a gush of slick in response, as if his body knows it has Dr. Stark’s attention and is doing everything it can to show him just how willing and fertile Steve is.

“Don’t look!” Steve gasps, bringing his knees up and clenching his thighs together automatically in some sort of pointless attempt at modesty, as if Dr. Stark’s somehow going to miss his reaction in a few minutes when his head is between Steve’s legs and his fingers and tongue are inside his—

When his fingers, what the hell, when his _fingers_ are inside of Steve. And actually, that mental image doesn’t help his situation at all.

“Steve,” Dr. Stark says, pressing down firmly against his chest, pinning him down when Steve tries to curl up in a way that does not make anything better. “Steve, it’s okay, it’s _okay_ ,” he says, but it’s not, because there’s a sudden breeze against the wet skin on the back of Steve’s buttocks, and it only takes him a second to realize it’s because he’s drawn his legs up so far to hide his erection that he’s exposing his ass to the room. He hurriedly drops his knees back down to the leather, just barely managing to grab the sheet before it falls to the floor, and he clutches it protectively over his groin, looking anywhere but at Dr. Stark. 

How is this his life?

Steve has never been the most confident when it comes to people he’s attracted to, probably a result of being sickly until almost his sophomore year in college when he shot up like a weed and more than doubled his weight seemingly overnight. But he’s never been this much of an embarrassment either.

He knows that he’s off-limits to Dr. Stark. But he doesn’t want Dr. Stark to be _glad_ he’s off-limits, and at the rate he’s going, Dr. Stark is going to start taking vacation days every time Steve comes in.

“I am _so_ sorry,” he all but whispers, and Dr. Stark sighs.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Steve. Really. Different people have different reactions, and one response isn’t more valid than another.”

“But this can’t exactly be comfortable for you,” Steve says, finally scrounging up the courage to look Dr. Stark in the face.

“It really doesn’t bother me,” Dr. Stark says kindly, although that can’t be true, not when the scent of Steve’s slick is hanging heavy in the air and Dr. Stark can no doubt feel the racing of his heart under his hands. “Okay, I’m going to move on to the next part now. Ready?”

Steve nods, because what else can he do, but he isn’t, he isn’t ready for Dr. Stark to place the first two fingers of each hand below both of Steve’s nipples and his thumbs above them and to start squeezing and massaging. Even with the warning Dr. Stark had given him, he isn’t prepared for the shock, or for the pleasure, a line of heat connecting Steve’s nipples to his ass, which clenches with each press and pull.

He doesn’t mean to stare up at Dr. Stark, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away as Dr. Stark … as he … as his _fingers_ … 

“You really shouldn’t worry so much, Steve. As far as embarrassing behavior goes, you’re not even in the running for first place,” Dr. Stark says, and Steve’s grateful that Dr. Stark isn’t looking at his face, his gaze flickering between Steve’s nipples as he checks for any … lactation. He knows Dr. Stark is going to eventually see just how revealing his expression no doubt is, but he wants to put off that moment as long as possible. 

“Now, I knew a doctor a few years back who had a patient that would … well, let’s just say this person made a noise of a feline nature during an exam. Not all the time, mind you, but whenever the speculum went in and whenever it went out, there’d always be an accompanying sound.”

Steve wishes he could focus on what Dr. Stark is saying, but how can he when his nipples and hole are _throbbing_?

“There was another patient who used to urinate during an exam. One time could be excused, even twice, but three times in a row?” Dr. Stark doesn’t stop what he’s doing as he talks, and Steve doesn’t know how long Dr. Stark is going to keep trying, doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to stand it if he doesn’t give up soon.

The only saving grace is that Dr. Stark isn’t touching the nipples themselves, just the areolas, which is bad enough to make Steve wonder if he can grind his hands down onto his cock without Dr. Stark noticing somehow, but not so bad that he can’t cling to his self-control and resist the urge.

“And as I’ve already said, it’s not uncommon for patients to exhibit signs of arousal during an exam. No one talks about it, but it happens a lot more frequently than you’d think. I personally know one couple that got together when the omega went into heat on the table, and I’ve heard of a half-dozen more. Alright, I’m not seeing any signs of discharge so far,” Dr. Stark says, and Steve wishes he’d looked away before Dr. Stark had turned his head, because meeting Dr. Stark’s eyes is a mistake. 

Dr. Stark still doesn’t stop, and Steve can feel his face getting redder and his ass even wetter as Dr. Stark m—

As Dr. Stark milks him.

He squeezes his thighs together and bites down on his lower lip, but it doesn’t help, it doesn’t help at all, and he feels like a whole minute goes by of Dr. Stark watching him squirm as he tugs and tugs and tugs, but he knows it’s just the humiliation warping his sense of time.

“Let me try one last thing and then we can move on,” Dr. Stark says, and Steve doesn’t even have a chance to breathe a sigh of relief when Dr. Stark lets go before he takes both of Steve’s nipples and rolls them between his fingers.

Steve jumps and slaps one hand over his mouth, but it’s too late to fully catch the moan before it escapes, and no, oh no.

After a while, Dr. Stark’s hands move from his nipples to his chest and back, again and again, and Steve is going to go crazy. His nipples are already more sensitive than normal, so it almost hurts when Dr. Stark touches them, a sharp burst of sensation that sweetens and expands until Dr. Stark lets go to massage him again, but even that feels better than it had before, Dr. Stark’s fingers pressing into the muscle, lifting his breasts almost like an offering while his nipples pulse with remembered pleasure. 

They’re so sensitized that it begins to feel like Dr. Stark is almost pinching them as he rolls and is pulling from further and further from his body, and Steve does everything he can to keep any more noises trapped behind his lips, but his back is coming off the table, and his heels are starting to slide against the leather as his legs move without permission, and his fist accidentally rubs against his cock, and he’s going to come, he can’t help it, it hurts but feels so good, and it’s Dr. Stark, it’s Dr. Stark touching him and watching him, and Steve doesn’t mean to, but it’s too much, it’s too—

“Well, it looks like I was worried for nothing. Everything looks good, Steve, and so we can go on to the next part of the examination.” 

What?

For one incredibly long and frustrated second, Steve struggles to catch his breath and nearly demands Dr. Stark come back and finish what he’d started. But then reality comes crashing down on him.

What is he thinking?

It’s not like Dr. Stark was trying to drive him insane and then left him hanging on the cusp of what was sure to be one of the most powerful orgasms of his life. He’s just trying to help him. Steve’s the one that keeps forgetting that and making things awkward. It’s no one’s fault but his own that he’s lying in a pool of his own slick with trembling limbs and pulsing nipples, still so close that a stray breeze might be enough to get him off.

He hears a click and looks up to see Dr. Stark positioning one of the stirrups, and it’s like being punched in the gut, all the air deserting him, leaving him dizzy and disoriented. His ass clenches down so hard that he’s worried the sight alone is going to tip him over—

But then the feeling gradually recedes, and Steve guiltily can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to the awesome musicalla on the mcu discord server ([MountainKestrel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainKestrel/pseuds/MountainKestrel) on AO3) for the speedy and thorough beta and for all their help with medical stuff. The questions I’ve been asking them, guys. >> They’ve also written [medkink](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23480029), which I highly recommend you check out! 
> 
> Also! The wonderful [Eggums](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggums/pseuds/Eggums) wrote a fantastic companion piece to this fic: [I’ll Not Be a Gentleman](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25213660) over the summer. *happy screaming* I was in the middle of a crazy move, however, and couldn’t fawn over it as much as it deserved. It’s sooooooooo good! You guys should read it and help me convince them to continue it! Moar chapters, moar chapters! <3 We all need more Dr. Stark in our lives.

This needs to stop. _He_ needs to stop. There’s a time and a place for inappropriately lusting after someone, and it’s in the privacy of his own bedroom, not when he’s lying on his back with his legs spread during a doctor’s exam! 

_But it’s Dr. Stark_ , a quiet voice tries to whine in his ear, which—

All right, that’s fair, but still. 

If Dr. Stark knew what sort of thoughts were going through Steve’s head, he’d be appalled. Horrified. No matter how kind and understanding he’s been up until now.

Steve just needs to get a hold of himself (and not in the way his body is still clamoring for) and use the time when Dr. Stark is setting up to calm down. He doesn’t need to orgasm. He’s fine. He’ll be fine. He will.

He very carefully doesn’t stare at what Dr. Stark’s hands are doing and takes a deep breath in through his nose—only to get a lungful of the heavy, sweet scent of his slick, which is drowning the room in his arousal.

“ _Oh my g—_ ” He cuts himself off as soon as he realizes he’s whispering out loud, but it’s too late. Dr. Stark’s head comes up, and Steve’s in real danger of giving himself whiplash as he turns away because he can’t look at him. He can’t. “Um, sorry,” he mumbles.

He doesn’t understand how he’d gotten desensitized to his own smell.

Okay, that’s a lie. He totally understands how he’d gotten desensitized considering everything Dr. Stark had been doing and everything he’d been feeling as a result, but still. It smells like his bedroom on the last day of a really intense heat, and they’re not even done yet. They haven’t even gotten to the actual _exam_ yet, and at this rate, Dr. Stark is going to have to open all the doors and windows of the entire office in order to air it out and not offend all the patients who have appointments the next day.

“You still doing all right there, Steve?”

“Yes,” he says, or he tries to say anyway, but it comes out so hoarsely that he has to clear his throat and say it again.

Why is this happening to him? This isn’t normal, not even for him, and there are some days during his heat when he gets wet watching medical dramas. Fuck.

There’s a noticeable silence on Dr. Stark’s end, and just when Steve’s going to break and look over, Dr. Stark says, “Give me one sec. I’ll be right back.”

He tugs the sheet down in Steve’s lap, covering more of his thighs, which would be considered kind in most instances, except Steve almost jackknifes off the table as the material drags over his cock, which still hasn’t gotten the message that nothing else is going to happen and lets out a spurt of precome in doomed hope. 

“Sorry!” Dr. Stark says, obviously surprised at Steve’s reaction (if only he knew), and he raises his hands, stepping back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just—” 

“No, it’s fine,” Steve hastily assures him, fingers curling in the sheet and bunching it up higher, subsequently hiding the evidence of his shame and reexposing all the skin Dr. Stark had covered. “I wasn’t looking and—”

“I shouldn’t have grabbed the—”

“Please, don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just … nervous.” If “nervous” now means humiliated but still wildly turned on and barely resisting the urge to shove Dr. Stark’s hands between his legs. 

Dr. Stark nods, his expression turning sympathetic. “I’ve gone to the same doctor for the last twelve years. I know how stressful seeing someone new is, and as a matter of fact, the reason I was going to step out of the room was so I could get something to help with that.”

“Oh,” Steve says because sure, he’d been a little concerned about someone other than Dr. Edwards examining him, but that had been before he realized who’d be taking his place. And while it’s true that Steve’s on edge for many, many reasons, they all have to do with the state of his crotch, and he can’t imagine what Dr. Stark has in mind. He’s kind of backed himself into a corner, though, so he just smiles weakly and thanks him.

“Great, it’ll just take me a minute.” Dr. Stark remembers to close the door this time, and Steve wants to be relieved, _is_ relieved, he is, had felt self-conscious and paranoid even knowing that, in all likelihood, there wasn’t anyone else in the office, but he’s also …. 

All right, fine, he can admit that he’s … annoyed. That Dr. Stark left him. When he’s so … when it’s obvious that Steve is … when the whole room _reeks_ of his desire. 

And he knows he shouldn’t be, especially since Dr. Stark is getting something to help him, but—

Unless. Unless the real reason Dr. Stark left is _because_ Steve is putting out enough pheromones to suffocate a man?

What if …? 

Steve’s shoulder hunch, as if making himself smaller will solve anything. What if Dr. Stark doesn’t like the way he smells?

Well, at least he doesn’t need to come anymore, Steve thinks distantly, which isn’t exactly a silver lining, but he’s no longer in danger of poisoning the room further with his stench—

“Okay, so I grabbed these because you still looked cold,” Dr. Stark says, pushing two metal poles and holding an armful of what looks like blankets. “Why don’t you lie back, and I’ll put them on you?” 

Steve searches Dr. Stark’s face, but he doesn’t look like a man who’s trying to avoid breathing, nor does it appear that he’s smeared anything on his upper lip to mask Steve’s smell. Apparently, he really had gone out in order to be helpful, and Steve’s doubts scatter in a rush of flustered pleasure. Dr. Stark had brought him blankets. He’s not in heat, so it’s not a nesting present or anything, but still. The consideration means a lot to Steve, and he blushes the whole time he’s thanking Dr. Stark and settling down.

He does feel a little bad that Dr. Stark went out of his way when Steve’s not even cold anymore. He can understand why Dr. Stark might’ve gotten the wrong impression since he’s only wearing a sheet, he’d been shivering nonstop while Dr. Stark had been touching him, and his nipples are still so erect that he’s afraid they’re planning to stage a revolt. Nonetheless, he’s actually pretty warm from how riled up he’d gotten earlier and is getting warmer by the second as Dr. Stark shakes the blankets out, the fact that Dr. Stark noticed and did something to fix his supposed problem making Steve want to preen at how well Dr. Stark is taking care of him. It’s ridiculous considering Dr. Stark probably would’ve done the same for any omega on his table, but knowing that doesn’t change how Steve feels.

Of course, how Steve feels is exactly what keeps getting him into trouble, so he tries to ignore it and mentally prepare himself for what’s coming. It doesn’t help, makes it worse if anything, but he does gets distracted by the discovery that it’s surprisingly nice having blankets piled on top of him. They’re actually really soft and heavier than he’d expected, the weight reassuring, and they smell … 

They smell really, really good.

Steve can’t quite put his finger on what they remind him of, but there’s an underlying earthy scent that’s remarkably soothing with traces of cologne that cause Steve’s head to swirl and the occasional bright, almost metallic note. He wouldn’t have expected a doctor’s office to have something like this that isn’t aggressively neutral, but he guesses a lot of omegas feel better with—

“I’m sorry I didn’t offer these to you before, but I only just remembered I had them in my cabinet. They’ve been sitting in there for weeks, so they shouldn’t smell much, if at all. Are they all right?” Dr. Stark asks, causing Steve to freeze—and how had he not noticed he was nuzzling his face in the fabric, what the fuck—and stare up at him.

“Th-these are yours?” he asks, hoping against hope that Dr. Stark was storing someone else’s blankets for them. Dr. Stark nods oh-so-helpfully, however, and Steve wouldn’t have said he was even _that_ excited anymore—mostly—but he still lets out a surge of slick that practically guarantees he’s going to owe the office a new table because even leather isn’t supposed to get this soaked.

There’s scent marking and then there’s _scent marking_ , and Steve’s body apparently wants to make sure no one can ever use these blankets again without smelling the two of them together. He tries to feel guilty about it as he clamps his legs together in order to hopefully contain the latest barrage of scent, but truthfully, what he mostly feels is embarrassed down to his very bones and simultaneously terribly smug.

“I can’t use your personal blankets,” he says, but it’s a lie and too late anyway, and it’s not like Steve isn’t halfway wondering if he can smuggle one out without Dr. Stark knowing. Dr. Stark just pats him on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad I finally remembered. Now let me set this up, and then we move on to the next part.”

The next part, which is the _exam_ part, and Steve doesn’t mean to get preoccupied by the idea of Dr. Stark shoving things inside of him, but come on, and the next thing he knows, Dr. Stark is setting up something over Steve’s torso, effectively cutting off his view of anything going on between his legs.

Steve blinks and realizes Dr. Stark has put up a drape, which is connected to the two poles Dr. Stark brought in, one on either side of the exam table.

“Some patients find they’re more comfortable when they don’t have to see what’s happening, so I thought we’d give this a try,” Dr. Stark says, coming around to Steve’s side. “What do you think?”

“Oh. Yeah. Thank you,” Steve says, even though he doesn’t want the drape, _wants_ to be able to see every last thing Dr. Stark does to him and wishes Dr. Stark would put a mirror up so Steve doesn’t miss a single second of it. 

He can’t very well tell Dr. Stark that, though, especially when Dr. Stark went to all the trouble of setting it up for him, especially _especially_ considering Steve had gotten lost in X-rated fantasies instead of paying attention to what Dr. Stark had been doing, and he has no one to blame but himself that he’s in this situation.

“Of course. I’m happy to do whatever I can to make this better for you,” Dr. Stark says, and Steve has to swallow back the first five responses that immediately come to mind. “Let me just wash my hands one more time, and then we’ll be ready to go.”

And because Steve’s so frazzled, he says, “Okay, thanks,” for absolutely no reason whatsoever unless he’s thanking Dr. Stark for doing his job and practicing safe hygiene, and fuck, as if everything he’s done so far isn’t enough. Who needs blankets when he has humiliation to keep him warm?

Dr. Stark just smiles, and maybe the drape won’t be so bad after all because at least Steve will be able to hide just how bright red he gets every time he sticks his foot into his mouth (it’s the only thing that’s going to be shoved into his mouth tonight at this rate, and that thought is way more depressing than it has any right to be). 

He waits until Dr. Stark is safely behind the drape before bringing up both hands to cover his face. This is his friends and family’s fault, he decides, because how could they have ever thought it was a good idea to let him be an adult? If they truly loved him like they claimed, they’d keep him locked in his apartment and never give him the opportunity to embarrass himself like this again. 

“All right, why don’t you scoot down a couple of inches,” Dr. Stark says, and Steve does it without comment or, shockingly, any kind of inappropriate bodily secretions, and he wonders if he’s reached the point where he can’t feel shame anymore.

The answer is no, Steve realizes, after Dr. Stark says, “Lift one leg at a time, and I’ll guide them into the stirrups,” after Steve obeys and Dr. Stark puts his firm hands on Steve’s ankles, sending a cascade of shivers down his back. His legs are spread wide, too wide almost, or at least wider than Dr. Edwards typically has them, and as a result of the extra distance between the stirrups, Steve’s thighs are bent back towards his body, which effectively puts his ass on offer. 

Steve supposes that every doctor must have a preference on how to arrange their patient during an exam, and if Dr. Edwards had put him in this position, Steve probably wouldn’t have given it another thought. It’s Dr. Stark putting him on display, though. Dr. Stark, who he now realizes has to already be getting a lungful of Steve’s desire with his legs the way they are, who might even be seeing evidence of how wet Steve has gotten if the sheet has ridden up enough. 

Steve’s thighs clench, tilting inward, but it’s too late for any attempt at modesty, was too late the moment Steve called the office and made an appointment this morning. Steve is literally going to pay to have Dr. Stark clinically slide those long, capable fingers inside of him, and it’ll be impossible for Dr. Stark to miss how hard Steve gets in response or how much slick he gushes as Dr. Stark works him open. 

Steve has a moment to absorb the fact that there’s nowhere left to hide, and then the sheet, which Steve has managed to keep dry by some miracle up until this point, is clinging like a second skin to his buttocks, and the scent of his slick gets so strong that it pours out from around the drape and _Steve_ kind of wants to pinch his nose shut to get a bit of relief.

“I … I’m _so_ sorry,” Steve says in the silence that follows because what else is there to say? Steve’s always been like this, but he’s never been like _this_ , virtually throwing his pheromones around, his body doing everything it can to entice Dr. Stark and screaming “receptive” and “fertile” in the basest, most conspicuous way possible. If Dr. Stark were a lesser man, Steve would be getting fucked to within an inch of life by an alpha in full rut.

Steve has to wrench his mind away from thoughts of Dr. Stark being a lesser man, and he tries to recite the multiplication tables in his head, but honestly, anything past the ones seems too complicated right now.

“Seriously, don’t worry about it, Steve.”

There’s a part of him that wishes he could see Dr. Stark’s face instead of the drape, wishes he could watch Dr. Stark staring at how the sheet clings and cups Steve’s most intimate places. Most of Steve, however, is hugely relieved that he can’t because in all likelihood, Dr. Stark isn’t looking, or if he is, it’s not with the kind of thoughts Steve wants him to have, and he thinks it’d be devastating to have proof that Dr. Stark isn’t interested.

“I know it can’t be comfortable for you, but we’re going to figure out what’s causing the excessive slicking, and then you won’t have to deal with it anymore.” 

It takes a second for Steve to understand what he means by “figure out” when it’s so clear that _Dr. Stark_ is the reason Steve is raining slick like a fountain—

Oh fuck.

 _Dr. Stark doesn’t know_.

He thinks Steve’s getting this wet because of some condition, not because Steve wants Dr. Stark to use him until he has to walk bow-legged and drips come for a week.

It’s so hard for Steve to wrap his mind around it because he thought he was being so obvious. He nearly came on the table from Dr. Stark examining his nipples. He’s leaked enough slick to cause minor flood damage.

And yet. Somehow he’s gotten away with it.

Which means he probably shouldn’t point out that all the extra slick he’s been producing at home hasn’t been accompanied by any kind of excitement, nor should he mention that he hasn’t gone around smelling like someone spilled a whole case of rut enhancers on him on accident. 

Dr. Stark hasn’t explicitly asked him if he’s had either of those side effects after all. Steve wouldn’t actually be _lying_ if he doesn’t say anything.

It’s not completely honest, he knows, and he imagines it’s going to skew his results, but he can’t bring himself to confess. Right now, Dr. Stark thinks he’s suffering and doesn’t consider him some kind of sexual deviant, and Steve would like to keep it that way for as long as he can.

“Okay, I’m almost ready to start,” Dr. Stark says, and Steve can hear him sit down on the stool. “Now, I’m going to narrate as I go, so you know what to expect. Feel free to ask me anything, and if you need me to stop, just let me know.”

Steve has to bite his lip when he hears the snap of a glove. “Mmhmm,” he murmurs, and he thinks he hates and loves the drape in equal measure because just the thought of Dr. Stark putting on the gloves is enough to get him breathing faster, but he doesn’t know if his self-control could have withstood the actual sight. 

Speaking of his failing self-control, Steve’s been trying to ignore the blankets Dr. Stark had given him because Dr. Stark had assumed they stopped carrying his scent and Steve hadn’t wanted to take advantage just because he knew differently. But Steve can’t see Dr. Stark anymore. He can hear the occasional sound, enough to guess what Dr. Stark is doing, but it’s not the same. And while he appreciates Dr. Stark’s promise to tell him what’s going to happen, it’s unsettling not knowing, and he can’t help but feel a little vulnerable, even as he realizes how foolish he’s being. He trusts Dr. Stark, and he knows Dr. Stark is going to take care of him. 

Still. There’s no harm in slowly, _slowly_ sliding the blankets a little higher so they almost cover the lower half of his face, in letting Dr. Stark’s scent envelop him and keep him safe.

“So you’re going to feel my hand on your thigh,” Dr. Stark tells him, putting his words to action, and ohhh, Steve hopes he mistakes the way he twitches for nervousness, “and I’m going to move towards the juncture of your legs and insert one finger inside of you, all right, Steve?”

“Yes, Dr. St- _ark_ ,” Steve says, his voice rising as Dr. Stark starts pushing into him, and fuck, fuck, fuck, why does his finger seem so big?

“You okay, Steve? You feel really tense,” Dr. Stark says, pulling out slightly before pressing back in, deeper this time, and Steve sucks in a hissing breath and grabs onto the blankets for something to hold onto, his ass clenching down like he can keep Dr. Stark out. He can’t, not like this. He doesn’t even want to, no matter how intense the stretch is. He doesn’t remember thinking Dr. Stark had exceptionally thick fingers, but he must because it feels like Dr. Stark skipped one finger and went straight to two or even three. 

“I’m—I’m fine,” he says, his back arching and toes curling in the stirrups, and he tries to relax as much as he can. Even with all the slick he’s producing and how aroused he’s been, the penetration burns, and he doesn’t get how one finger could be so uncomfortable when it usually just feels good.

“Are you normally this tight?” Dr. Stark asks, and there’s something about the way that he says it that makes Steve shudder, makes him feel like he’s going to drench the whole damn floor in slick, and his thighs fall open from where they’d been trying to close. 

He understands now why he’s clamping down on Dr. Stark, why even this much is wrecking him. It’s just one more way his body is trying to reel Dr. Stark in, showing him just how good Steve would feel, how satisfying it’d be to break Steve open on his cock. The thought makes Steve bite down on the blanket, letting out a muffled whine of excitement and pain as Dr. Stark thrusts into him a few times, undoubtedly trying to loosen him up and get him ready for more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always like to post something around my birthday, and normally I’d post a chapter of Nostalgia, but I decided to go with Fever this year. Feel free to give me all the kudos and comments as a present … ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. The absolutely lovely [Tina](https://thirstinart.tumblr.com/) made AMAZING art for Fever [here](https://thirstinart.tumblr.com/post/640752832509886464/) for my birthday. Please go give it love. She's so freaking talented, and she inspired me to write another chapter.
> 
> All the thanks to [ChocolateCapCookie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateCapCookie/pseuds/ChocolateCapCookie) for the fast and complimentary beta and to musicalla ([MountainKestrel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MountainKestrel/pseuds/MountainKestrel) on AO3) for betaing and answering my medical questions. You guys are wonderful. <3

_“Are you normally this tight?” Dr. Stark asks, and there’s something about the way that he says it that makes Steve shudder, makes him feel like he’s going to drench the whole damn floor in slick, and his thighs fall open from where they’d been trying to close._

_He understands now why he’s clamping down on Dr. Stark, why even this much is wrecking him. It’s just one more way his body is trying to reel Dr. Stark in, showing him just how good Steve would feel, how satisfying it’d be to break Steve open on his cock. The thought makes Steve bite down on the blanket, letting out a muffled whine of excitement and pain as Dr. Stark thrusts into him a few times, undoubtedly trying to loosen him up and get him ready for more._

“Sorry, I guess I’m still n-n-nervous,” Steve says, stuttering as Dr. Stark pushes all the way inside, his knuckles digging into Steve’s ass. Fuck.

He doesn’t mean to squeeze down on Dr. Stark’s finger, but what else is he supposed to do? Dr. Stark is _inside_ of him, as deep as he can go. It’s the most Steve is ever going to get. Of course his body is going to hold onto him however it can.

The only way it could be better would be if Dr. Stark didn’t have any gloves on, if it were just bare skin instead of the unnatural smoothness of vinyl. It’s a funny thing to regret, considering Steve normally enjoys the gloves _because_ they’re foreign and clinical, but he wants everything he can get from Dr. Stark. He can’t help but think the universe is stealing something from him like this.

“That’s perfectly understandable,” Dr. Stark says, roughly rolling his finger in an attempt to stretch Steve out, and it hurts. It hurts but he doesn’t care. He wouldn’t say he likes it but … 

But.

There’s just something about it being Dr. Stark doing this to him, about Dr. Stark doing this for his own good … it’s messing with Steve’s head. His previous exams have never really been painful. They’ve been varying levels of uncomfortable, and he would rather not talk about the amount of embarrassment he’s experienced, but the exams themselves have never gone past that. Whatever his previous doctors might have thought about him, they’ve always been professional when touching him.

It’s utterly wrong then that the fact that Dr. Stark has to be rough with him because Steve’s body is forcing him to makes Steve think even _more_ about sex as a result. The kind where he’s so desperate for cock that he doesn’t mind if the prep is minimal; where he cares more about getting a knot deep inside of him than being able to sit on a chair afterwards.

Steve clutches the blanket to his face, taking a deep breath of Dr. Stark’s scent. As Dr. Stark’s fingers try to wear down his resistance, he can’t help but think that he wouldn’t care if Dr. Stark knotted him on the first thrust as long as he promised to keep fucking him afterwards, that Steve would be happy just to be a warm place for Dr. Stark’s knot until he was ready to go again—

“—need to be after this, Steve?”

What?

For a second, there’s nothing but the thunder of Steve’s heartbeat and the faint sounds of Dr. Stark moving in and out of him and _fuuuuuuuuck_.

“Sorry, I … I didn’t hear you,” Steve says, trying to speak normally, and it feels like he’s going to combust with how much he’s blushing. It should be illegal for doctors to have conversations with their patients when they’ve got something inside of them. Maybe someone who doesn’t get the way he does during exams could do it, but how’s Steve supposed to pretend it’s not everything he’s ever wanted?

“Oh, sorry,” Dr. Stark says, raising his voice, and Steve wishes again that he could see his face instead of the drape. “I asked if you have anywhere you have to be after this. I know we started late—”

Steve winces, guilt sweeping through him.

“—and I was wondering if you need me to be done by a certain time.”

Dr. Stark says it like he’s worried about Steve’s schedule and not that Steve is keeping him after-hours, even though it has to be frustrating for him. He probably thought he was going to be done by now, but here Steve is, dragging things out. 

“Well, I mean, the sooner the better, right?” he says, and it side-steps Dr. Stark’s question, but he’s sure Dr. Stark doesn’t want to be here any longer than he has to be.

“So you’d like for me to finish this as quickly as I reasonably can?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, even though it’s a lie because he’d be happy to be trapped here with Dr. Stark all night. It’s an odd question, though. He imagines the vast majority of patients hope their exams will be over with as fast as possible.

“Even if it means a little discomfort?”

And _ohhhhhh_. Steve gets it now. He’s finally loosening up, but Dr. Stark only has one finger inside of him. He still has to get another one in. He still has to get the _speculum_ in. Speeding things along means Dr. Stark is possibly going to hurt him some more.

There’s no reason for that to affect him the way it does, but when Steve says, “Yes, please,” it’s nearly a sigh. 

“All right, then I’m going to add a second finger now. Let me know if it’s too much for you.”

For all that Steve wants it, and he does, he wants to lay here with his legs open and Dr. Stark’s fingers inside of him forever, he still instinctively tries to close his legs when Dr. Stark pushes in. It’s nowhere near as painful as when he first started, but it still feels like Dr. Stark’s fingers are bigger than they have any right—

He has to slap his hands over his mouth when Dr. Stark immediately starts thrusting and twisting his fingers.

Oh fuck. Oh _fuck_.

Yes, he’d given Dr. Stark the go-ahead, but Steve had expected him to do the bare minimum for each step before moving on, not fingerfuck him so thoroughly that he can feel his slick splashing against his ass with each thrust of his hand. That Dr. Stark doesn’t even warn him, acts like Steve’s body is his to do whatever he wants to it, even if it’s just to save them both time, like an object he can manipulate instead of being a person … 

Steve’s thighs are starting to ache with how tense he is and how wide he’s spread. He wants to blame the tremor of his muscles on that, but he suspects it has a lot more to do with the fact that he’s about to come than anything else. He doesn’t know how to prevent it without telling Dr. Stark, but there’s no way he can do that. Right now Dr. Stark thinks he has a condition that’s causing him to produce enough slick to drown a man, but if Steve comes, Dr. Stark is going to look back on everything they’ve done so far and realize Steve’s been getting off on his touches; that Steve’s been _using_ him.

The subsequent wave of shame that crashes into him is immense, and Steve knows it’s not actually true, that he didn’t purposefully come to the office to fulfill some sordid fantasy, but that’s what it feels like when he’s this close. He can’t say anything, but he can’t let things keep going either, no matter that he doesn’t want to stop. He’s already been unwittingly edged once, and what he wants to do is pinch his nipples, which are still tingling, fuck, while Dr. Stark takes him apart.

Steve can’t, though. He can’t because he would never take advantage of Dr. Stark’s kindness and medical responsibility to—

His hips nearly come off the leather when Dr. Stark accidentally gets his prostate, and Steve bites down on his hand in an attempt to lock in the moan, but he’s doomed to failure. Even to his own ears, he sounds like hunger. Like base desperation. 

“It’s all right, Steve,” Dr. Stark says soothingly. “You’re doing just fine,” but he’s not because Steve’s hips are tilted up now, and Dr. Stark ends up getting his prostate multiple times in a row. 

Steve wishes he could say that he stays silent for this at least. There’s no hiding that he’s orgasming, not when Dr. Stark’s fingers are inside of him and Steve’s cock is bare and jerking against his stomach; nevertheless, he wants to say that he salvages what dregs of his pride are left to him and doesn’t reveal just how intense his orgasm is.

It’d be a lie, though. Steve wouldn’t say he’s particularly noisy when he comes, but even with his hand stuffed halfway in his mouth, there’s no mistaking just how much he enjoys what Dr. Stark is doing to him, his moans guttural and all too loud as humiliation and pleasure roar through him. 

It’s poor consolation to realize that even if he had managed to keep the noises in, the way his come hits the drape, the shaking of his legs, and the accompanying rattling of the stirrups would’ve given him completely away. 

He doesn’t know how long it lasts—a few seconds realistically, but it feels longer. It feels like an eternity that he’s splayed open and pitiful, his ass aching and covered in slick. He does know that it’s too quiet, though. Dr. Stark doesn’t say anything, and Steve can’t yet, too mortified to do anything except try and slow his heaving breaths, and he only accomplishes that much because the drape keeps him from seeing whatever expression is on Dr. Stark’s face.

Dr. Stark’s fingers are still inside of him, but they’re not moving. He’s undoubtedly staring in shock at the mess Steve’s made of himself. In all likelihood, Dr. Stark has never had an omega on his table like Steve. Most of Steve wants to curl up into a ball and hide in the blankets Dr. Stark gave him, even as a tiny part of him twinges with something like pride that Dr. Stark is looking at him, that Steve has proved just how much he wants him, even if he can’t do anything about it. 

He tries to bury that part, shoves it down as far as it can go. It’s not the time, it won’t ever be the time, and he just—he can’t believe he just—

“I—” His voice cracks, and he tries again. “I am so sorry.” He can’t lower his legs, no matter how strong the urge is, not with Dr. Stark in between them, and there’s no point anyway. Steve would just have to raise them again in order to proceed with the exam—

Assuming Dr. Stark even wants to keep going. Maybe he’ll demand Steve leave or that they reschedule to when he can bring a nurse in with them in order to make sure _Steve_ doesn’t try anything. 

“That’s never … I’ve never …” 

He can’t even finish the sentence, can’t say “I’ve never orgasmed during an exam before,” even though it’s true. There have definitely been times when he’s been close in the past, and he’s learned to choose appointments that allow him to rush home and take care of himself after it’s all said and done, but he’s never come on an exam table before at the hands of another doctor. 

Actually saying that, though, actually acknowledging what Steve just did is impossible. Unbearable. 

He likes Dr. Stark so much. But after this, after revealing the type of omega he is—

“What did I say about you worrying so much, Steve?” Dr. Stark says, the gently chiding tone of his voice making Steve’s chest tight, and he has to bite his lip to contain the gasp of relief. “Not even in the running for first place, remember? Now, do you think you can keep going? Or do you need to take a break?”

“I’m fine,” he says faintly, even though he’s not, because what else _can_ he say? He would desperately love to take a minute to collect himself, to close his legs and pretend he’s okay, but it won’t change the fact that it happened. What it will do is prolong the exam, and Steve can’t do that to Dr. Stark. Not after all of … this, and not after he keeps being so damn kind. “Please keep going.”

There’s a slight hesitation, as if Dr. Stark is wondering if he should stop anyway, no matter what Steve says, but then he hears him sigh. “All right, then I’ll go ahead and check your prostate now.”

His fingers are already rubbing against Steve before he’s even finished talking, so Steve doesn’t get the chance to brace himself, letting a ridiculous squeak escape as what feels like a jolt of electricity shoots through him.

Dr. Edwards had explained that because of the placement of the uterus, omega males’ prostates tended to be higher in the body relative to alpha or beta males’. That meant a knot wouldn’t constantly press against it, but it also meant it was more difficult for doctors to examine them digitally. Dr. Edwards complained about needing longer fingers a couple of times, and Dr. Stark—

Dr. Stark apparently has the same problem, the knuckles of his hand pressing tightly against Steve’s hole as he tries to get deeper.

“Mmph!” Steve is going to suffocate himself at this rate, bunching the blanket over his mouth to minimize the noises as much as possible.

He hadn’t even thought about the oversensitivity, but as Dr. Stark strokes his prostate, Steve’s hips jump each and every time. There’s nothing he can do to stop them. It’s too much, not even pleasure but a barrage of sensation, and Dr. Stark _keeps doing it_. He would swear that Dr. Edwards would’ve been done by now, but Dr. Stark rubs against him again and again and again, his fingers trying to get deeper and deeper, so much so that Steve has to push back in order to keep from moving away from the pressure.

“Sorry, this has to be uncomfortable for you, Steve,” Dr. Stark says, and it is, fuck, but there’s also a hot line of slick sliding down between his cheeks, and Steve doesn’t know how to respond. “I’m sure Dr. Edwards doesn’t take this long as it’s really rare for a man of your age and health to have any prostate issues. During a routine exam, your physician would check the inferior end of the prostate—the closest end—and that would be sufficient. Unfortunately, I need to rule this out as being the cause of your symptoms, and in order to do that reliably, I have to examine your whole prostate, not just part of it.” 

“That’s—that’s fine,” Steve tells him, feeling embarrassed and inexplicably guilty that Dr. Stark felt the need to explain, as if he’d heard Steve’s thoughts, even though Steve hadn’t meant anything by them. He trusts Dr. Stark; of course he trusts him. He knows there’s a valid reason for everything Dr. Stark does. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.

He just wishes that it didn’t mean he was being so overstimulated that he’s barely keeping himself from yelling.

“If you need to, we can stop, but it would get a lot more invasive, and neither of us want that.”

More invasive than Dr. Stark’s hand halfway inside of him? 

It’s with something like despair that he gets a mental image of Dr. Stark’s whole hand sliding into him, and a second later, Steve swears he can feel the gush of slick even around Dr. Stark’s fingers. He hadn’t thought the wet, thick sounds of Dr. Stark rubbing and reaching inside of him could become even more obscene, but he’d been wrong.

He’s going to suffocate himself. It’s the only option at this point.

“See if you can try to bear down a little, Steve. And if you don’t mind, try and scoot down the table a little closer towards me, maybe get up on your elbows and angle your hips a bit more.”

“Mm,” he grunts in lieu of speaking because he’s sure his voice would break, and putting together a chain of words seems excessively daunting. Dr. Stark is still straining to get deeper, his fingers veritably mapping the contours of Steve’s prostate as he goes, and Steve tries to do what he asked, but his limbs don’t want to cooperate. They feel jittery and weak, and it’s a miracle he hasn’t fallen off the table with the way his pelvis keeps jerking in response to something Dr. Stark does. 

To make things one hundred percent worse, while there are still moments of excruciating sensitivity, it’s starting to feel good again, and Steve knows it’s because he’s so turned on. He realizes Dr. Stark isn’t overstimulating him on purpose—or at least, he’s only doing it because it’s medically necessary—but being at the mercy of his doctor as he makes Steve come over and over again is one of his go-to fantasies, and reality is both better and worse than anything he’s imagined.

He feels horrible, and he knows he’s a bad person for enjoying the situation, but it’s not like he has any other choice. He really did come in because he’s having problems, and he’s just trying to do as he’s told.

Which is hard when Dr. Stark keeps fucking—keeps _examining_ him, occasionally thrusting into him when Steve least expects it, or pushing against his hole as he reaches inside of him so Steve is virtually grinding against his hand. All of that plus the fact that Steve doesn’t know what Dr. Stark learned in med school, but whatever he’s doing to his prostate should be illegal in all fifty states, and Steve’s going to come again.

He’s heard that the best time to get an omega to orgasm is right after he just did, but this is ridiculous. It hasn’t even been ten minutes yet! He doesn’t think it’s even been _five_.

Steve finally manages to jitter his way down the table, his ass nearly hanging off the end as he clutches onto the sides for dear life, his legs halfway to his chest and his face almost touching the drape. The smell of his come wafts up from the material, and he squeezes his eyes closed.

“Ah, there you go, just like that. Hold still now,” Dr. Stark tells him, and fuck, fuck, fuck. Steve doesn’t know if the partial praise is to blame or if it’s the command, but he’s getting lightheaded with pleasure.

The blanket slid off at some point, and he’d mourn the loss of Dr. Stark’s scent, but he’s more worried about how hard and fast he’s breathing, how he’s advertising how close he is again. Once had been bad enough. He desperately wants to hold off from coming again, but as the seconds tick by, Dr. Stark doesn’t stop, and Steve’s starting to sound high and strained.

He feels like every muscle is clenched tight, as if he can keep the orgasm back by will alone, and he’s getting a cramp in his left foot from how curled up his toes are, but he can’t, he can’t, he—

“It’s okay, Steve,” Dr. Stark says, understanding and so terribly kind. “We’ll make a note that increased sensitivity is one of your symptoms.”

It’s justification and permission both, and as Dr. Stark does something particularly cruel with his fingers, Steve groans through gritted teeth and starts to come again. He sounds like he’s being tortured, and it almost feels like he is, the pleasure so severe that Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he damages the leather of the exam bed from how tightly he’s holding on. It’s all he can do not to thrash around, and he’s not completely successful, his hips shuddering against the onslaught of Dr. Stark’s fingers, but the fact that he doesn’t fall off is an accomplishment all on its own.

He’s shivering all over, his ears ringing, and he only distantly hears Dr. Stark say absently, “Almost got it,” still sliding over and along Steve’s prostate. 

Almost … got it?

“You know, that actually helped. You opened up a little more.”

Steve doesn’t mean to cry out, but he’s barely started to come down from his orgasm, and while he realizes Dr. Stark isn’t actually going faster or pressing harder than before, Steve is so oversensitized that it feels like he is. Dr. Stark is so deep now, so fucking deep, and Steve doesn’t understand how it still can’t be enough.

“No, don’t tense up now. Let me in,” Dr. Stark orders, thrusting, all but battering his hand against Steve’s poor hole, and Steve tears up at the thought of disappointing him. He tries, he tries to relax, but Dr. Stark keeps rubbing and shoving into him, every thrust sending shocks through his body, each one stronger than the last.

It’s so intense that Steve doesn’t realize he’s whining until he starts getting louder, but by that point, he can’t hold any of it back anymore, too exhausted and overwhelmed to fight for control. Dr. Stark isn’t letting up, and Steve is almost hunched over his knees, his face lost in the drape as he grunts and shakes. 

He opens his mouth to beg Dr. Stark to stop, to say that he can’t take it anymore, that it’s too much and it hurts and _please_ —

But then he just … doesn’t, and when Steve finally comes less than a minute later, it doesn’t feel like an orgasm, the sensations too acute to be pleasurable, but he still yells in something like release, a dribble of come leaking from his cock.

“—give you a second.” 

It’s a struggle to clear his head, and Steve blinks up at the ceiling. His torso is balanced precariously halfway off the table, he realizes, and he’s trembling. Oddly enough, his legs are nearly straight instead of folded up, and he thinks he vaguely remembers kicking out as he came, wrenching the stirrups out of place. 

He hopes he didn’t hurt Dr. Stark when that happened. 

“Your prostate seems fine, Steve,” Dr. Stark says, and Steve hears the squeak of gloves, followed by a muffled thud as they land in the biohazard waste bin.

**Author's Note:**

> ETA: Don't forget to check out [Tina's gorgeous art](https://thirstinart.tumblr.com/post/640752832509886464/)!
> 
> I'm just seeing if people are interested in this dark!Tony scenario. Comments are love and kudos are a vote for more.
> 
> Also, please let me know if I need to add more tags.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I'll Not Be a Gentleman](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25213660) by [Eggums](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggums/pseuds/Eggums)




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